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My phone trills on the table, and Romero's eyes swing towards it. "Marito" is written across the screen. I smile as I swipe the phone up and answer.
Romero nods and turns away, shutting the door behind him. I relax into the chair and giggle finally.
"I expect I'm not the one who's being funny without saying a word, am I?" Xander's crispy baritone meets my seeking ears.
I giggle some more and succumb to the light floating through my chest. It feels so good to be in this state where we're just fine. No animosity, no pain, no anger. Just us.
"Why would you think that mio marito?" I purr at him, my core tightening deliciously when a rigid pause greets my ears. I exhale a rush of shaky air and graze a finger over my breasts.
Then I pull my hand away sharply. I want his touch; mine that had always sufficed just doesn't feel the same anymore.
"What did you say?" His voice is tight with lust. And I can almost imagine his blue eyes feasting on me. My skin tightens, tensing, pounding in the air between us.
"Which? My husband?"
His raspy exhale is rushed and sexy as hell. A pant escapes my lips. It's ridiculously apparent how much he wants me. It's palpable how much it is that I want him right back.
"You tease! Say it the other way. Now."
A breathy little moan slips into the air. I press the phone close to my lips so he can imbibe every word. "Mio marito. My own. My husband."
"I'm calling Romero. He's bringing you down here right now. Pack your things."
I laugh finally, the sound bursting out like fairy dust to shower joy over us. "I can't. I'm working."
"Fuck work." He stops, the pause short but conscious. "I need you."
"How about you come down here?"
"I can't. There's something here that I can't leave." The words are like a stream of cold water over my warm flesh. I press my eyes closed and wiggle uncomfortably. But he doesn't allow me to lose him. "But I will be home early. And I swear, I'll take you in so many different ways walking will be a chore. It's a promise."
My nipples bud up against the soft, lacy fabric of my bra. "I look forward to it, Mi'lord."
"Goodbye. I really just wanted to hear your voice. Now I have a raging hard-on for my troubles. You're a distraction, Sole."
He hangs up abruptly, and I spend a few good minutes imagining him in his office, maybe touching himself to the thought of me, craving me as much as I want him, need him.
Submitting to him somehow feels good. It's better than fighting him. And him putting me on an even keel feels even better.
It makes me drip, makes me itch for his touch, makes me needy in a way he alone can satisfy. And without warning, I want to be home.
It's almost six, and I've worked myself into a lather thinking about him. So I'm definitely not expecting Romero to stalk into the room after a single knock, his brow jumping, his face dark with a forceful glare.
"We need to go." He packs my large black Birkin without asking my permission as usual, and I don't question him despite my almost desperate need to ask what's wrong. There will be enough time to probe in the car.
Rosa is at the door, her face drained of color, so she looks almost ashen. She swivels and walks ahead of us, already barking words into the wire clipped into her ear.
"Bring the car around. No stops until she's home. I repeat, no stops."
I walk faster till I'm beside her. Immediately she's done talking, I break into the minute silence. "What's going on?"
Her chest expands on a deep exhale, and I realize her glasses are foggy. "Someone found out about Xander's dad. There's a fucking uprising. We need to make sure you're safe. You're heading to his father's where security is max."
Damnit. Then I freeze and tug her to a stop, my chest too tight, my vision wobbling. "Where's my son? Where's Lucian?"
She stops and tips her head to Romero and I know without doubt none of them had even thought about him.
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